


Hiding in Plain Sight

by SippingPlotting



Category: Downton Abbey
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2017-11-24
Updated: 2017-11-24
Packaged: 2019-02-06 04:26:22
Rating: General Audiences
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings
Chapters: 3
Words: 4,992
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/12809586
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/SippingPlotting/pseuds/SippingPlotting
Summary: Character studyWhy Jimmy's words all seem to try to indicate he's heterosexual, while Thomas believes his tone & actions indicate otherwisePrequel, pre-slashwith FLASHBACKS





	1. Chapter 1

"I am the resurrection and the light. Whosoever believes in me..."  
the minister's voice rambled on, an echo in a world already too large and too full of other echoes.  
Seventeen year old James Kent stood there, staring blankly at the closed coffin, feeling nothing until his mother's warm hand took his cold one in her grip. 

 

"We were honored to have Randall Duncan for the length of time he was here on earth, but he was too good for this life and now makes his way among the saints in the next...."  
Jimmy felt himself blank back out again somewhat as he glanced from up front where Ran was (or at least his body was) and over to where Darlene Smith stood, hankerchief balled and wadded in her hand.  
Does she know? Jimmy thought to herself.  
About any of it, really, but mainly about how he was killed?

 

The service came to a conclusion all too soon, and Emily Kent took her son's arm and half lead- half dragged him out to the churchyard behind the mourners.  
The clods of dirt were the hardest, Jimmy thought, wincing as each one fell into the hole.  
At least when his father died, there was no body to bury here. No falling of dirt to make one feel as though rocks were burying one's own self alive.  
Hit by hit, shovel by shovel, the hole was filled, and they were left alone.

"Hard to think of someone that young dying," his mother murmured, though they knew young men were dying by the score these days in the Great War.  
Ran had been 18 after all, undoubtedly soon destined for the battlefield where Jimmy's father had fallen....along with boys who were only a year or two older than Jimmy himself.

 

"Not just someone, mum. Ran," Jimmy said quietly.  
It was no longer his nature to be quiet, the silent lad he'd been in younger days was now completely and irrevocably supplanted.  
Masked.  
These days Jimmy Kent was a showman, outgoing and friendly much as his mum and dad both had been. (As Randall Duncan had been not too long ago.)

After his dad's death, Jimmy had needed to take on the role of jester, more to coax his mother from her bed than anything else, but today....today he couldn't bring any sort of light to his eyes, any sort of energy to his walk. 

 

"Saw you in there," Darlene said, coming abreast of them.  
"Came over to say hello."  
The girl's voice was sweet as honey, and her eyes usually shared the golden brown tones of the same.  
Usually. Today, though, Darlene's eyes were more a muddied brown rimmed in red.

"Darlene," Mrs. Kent said quietly. "Good of you and your mother to come."  
"Our friend, too, warn't he?" the girl said quietly. "If you need anything from us, just come by and we'll do what we can, you know."  
She looked Jimmy in the eye then. "You do know, don't you? Anything?"

And he nodded at her.  
She suspects, he thought. She suspects what happened, but won't ask, because it's too heavy a thing to truly Know.

\---

Ran Duncan was Jimmy's closest friend, but he hadn't always been.

The other lad had a rather rough start of things in life.  
His father dead, his mother no better than she ought to be, it was up to the young boy to find his way about in the world at large.  
Not an odd thing, back then, for a youngster to work.

Knocking door to door, he'd find odd jobs though rarely for actual coin. Finally landing in Emily Kent's back room--a roof over his head and dinner in exchange for a multitude of chores.  
("Mum, why?" Jimmy'd whinged at first, needing to budge over to let the boy share his bed.  
"He's so loud, mum. Can't you make him stop being so soft?" he'd complain, to which his mother just smiled and sent her son along.)

 

Emily knew she needed an extra pair of hands around the house--her son was almost of the same age, but not as strong as Randall.  
And her husband , bless him, was more one to wander and make music than actually do much cabinet making--ostensibly his profession.  
"I'll see if I can get a job part time in the shop," Ran had said the first night, tucking into a bowl of soup as though he'd never had anything decent to eat. "Do your jobs, too, for shelter, but maybe bring in a bit of cash on the side?"

Jimmy had snorted, waiting with a slight smile, knowing what his mother would say.  
Except she didn't. 

 

Instead of a lecture on the importance of schooling, Emily Kent had just nodded once and said, "I'm sure you'll do fine."  
Jimmy, only a year younger, having already lost that battle started to bristle until she caught his eyes and frowned.  
Only later did she explain.  
"I don't think Ran can read, Jimmy. It's not fair to throw him in if he can't get anything out of it but humiliation. Let him earn his keep and feel some pride in it. It's good if he has ambition."

"But, mum," Jimmy'd started to object, wanting to light out himself, chuck the school house prison and shake his boots a bit even at such a young age.  
"James," she said, the use of his full name a clear warning of dissatisfaction. "Every one of God's creatures has something of value in this world. You were gifted with a quick wit and music.  
Ran was given muscles and clever hands for fixing things.  
And we'll respect each to his own in my house, if you please."

And that, as they say, was that.  
Another thing to rub young Jimmy Kent the wrong way, until the boys could find a common ground.

\---

And they did find that common place the first wonderful summer, when off from school Jimmy felt free to roam the woods and swim in ponds, well away from books.  
Randall, when he could, joined him and tried to teach the younger lad how to skim a rock with accuracy, or fish, or even shoot.  
Jimmy was rubbish at it all, however, rubbish at most things athletic, growing to look more like a Greek statue of a perfect boy,  
all the while not having control of his gangling limbs.

Randall, however.  
With food, Randall had filled out some, the planes of his face no longer hollowed, and the wiry muscles he'd already acquired became even more defined.  
At twelve he had the good fortune to look like a lad full grown and was offered a wonderful opportunity--hallboy at Willburn House.

 

Emily Kent was pleased for him.  
"You'll be a fine lad for service. Think of the big house and all of that richness," she'd smiled.  
It was the sort of thing in the books she read to the boys of a night.  
"Maybe I can...." Jimmy'd started. 

"None of that, Jimmy Kent. You're for schooling, you are."  
And his mother went back to the kitchen, while behind her back her son rolled his eyes.  
Randall just chuckled at him. Only these few months and the two boys were bonded for life.  
"Be carrying things all day, running errands all night. You'd not like it as much as you think."

 

"Then why do it? Why not stay here with us?"  
Jimmy had to look up at the other boy, and looking up could see him hesitate.  
"It's no criticism of him...but I don't think your father wants me here no more."  
The older boy ran a palm across his lower face, as though stifling what further might come from his mouth.

"Does, too," Jimmy said, confused. His father'd never said one word against Ran.

"P'raps. But p'raps not forever. Best leave now on good terms," Ran shrugged a shoulder, aiming for nonchalance.  
"And I'll be around the village, Jimmy. Not like I'm going very far."  
That, more than anything else, soothed him.  
Yes, he'd see his friend in the village on half days and holidays. True enough.

\---

"As the vicar said, he was too good for this world," Darlene said as they got to the point in the path where they'd each go their own way.  
"Now remember, if you need anything from us, just come by and we'll do what we can, you know."  
And she walked on behind her mother, leaving Jimmy and Emily Kent alone.


	2. Chapter 2

"I'll have to get back up to the big house soon," Jimmy said.  
It had been odd to see only a handful of the other servants at the funeral, though he thought he knew why.  
Odder still, perhaps, was that any of them came at all.  
And Jimmy...only the fact that her ladyship truly liked him gave him the day to spend, going to the other footman's funeral and then able to have luncheon with his mum.

"I wish you could stay," his mother smiled at him.  
"My good boy. I wish you could stay and live a different life than the one you have."

 

"Now, mum," he'd protested slightly.  
When his father had died early in the war, even what little money the Kents had was rapidly spent.  
Widows were honored, but they were not supported. Worse still, married women--even widowed ones--were far less likely to acquire a job than a young unmarried girl.  
Emily Kent, only in her mid thirties, was expected to be given a warm corner by relatives, be treated as a dependent by her family.  
The problem was that except for Jimmy and two of her brother's children in Scarborough, there was no family.  
They were mainly alone.

"I like it at Willburn. I do," he lied manfully.  
He HAD liked it well enough, with Randall there. Had managed to steer clear of the petty bickering among the staff.  
Had felt protected enough by someone who actually had the skill and experience Jimmy so obviously lacked.  
Randall had got him the job, of course.

\---

Randall had started him with the basics

"Now, Lord Anstruther's a nice old fellow. I'll keep him off your trail.  
You just keep your expression bland, call him 'my lord,' and keep the tray steady and everything will be fine.  
"The new Lady Anstruther's rather a case, but she'll like you. She tends to be a bit of a vamp, even with the servants, so mind you don't react."

Jimmy'd stood there, tugging at his collar, checking his gloves and not knowing what exactly he should do with his feet.  
"What about Clegg?" Jimmy asked, inclining his head toward the first footman.  
"Stay clear of him. He's a bad'un, but I'll run interference."  
Randall gave him a reassuring grin.

 

"It's like being on the stage, Jimmy boy. Think of it like that," Ran chuckled.  
"You're the lead in your own special show at the Variety, playing the stalwart footman."  
And Jimmy, nervous, unsure of himself, took a deep breath; if he didn't have to be himself, he thought, perhaps he could manage.  
Jimmy Kent wasn't quite good enough, but Jimmy Kent the man in the Livery....well, perhaps, he was.

And a star was born.

\---

But now,  
Willburn would be terribly lonely without Randall, Jimmy knew, walking slowly up the drive in the sunset after the burial.  
The funeral had unsettled him. His mother, living alone, had unsettled him.  
Darlene's kind, knowing eyes had unsettled him.  
He felt very close to having to examine the Truth of himself, the Truth of life around him, and heaven knew Jimmy Kent did NOT want to do that.

Truth was too dangerous.

He breathed in and out slowly, standing a moment, giving in to the shakes.  
The memories were too painful, and he dashed the tears away quickly with the heels of his hands--denying them.  
Indeed, the young man pushed all of his thoughts and feelings and memories into the deepest corner of his mind.  
Blanking his face into the expression he'd perfected in his role as "proper servant," he went up to the staff entrance and went into the hall.

"Ah, Jimmy," Mr. Simms the butler'd greeted him.  
"So glad you're Finally back."

\---

"It seems half the war is funded by fetes and garden parties," drawled the dowager Lady Southerby from the corner chair in which she crouched that night.  
The old woman was of Lord Anstruther's generation, and she came mainly to watch the downward spiral that was happening in Willburn now that Jock had lost his reason and married for...attraction.  
(Distasteful when the walls of good breeding fell.)

 

"There do seem to be a lot of them," Lady Renten agreed, taking a small serving from the tray Jimmy offered.  
One thing about being a footman that was a saving grace for the young man--dinner service had a certain style and rhythm. It was like music.  
He could feel that rhythm in the muscles of his body, even when his mind was blank.

 

"I wish the horrible thing was over. I wish there didn't have to be war at all," Lady Anstruther pouted at the gentleman next to her, then tilted her eyes at Jimmy, looking up at the footman from under her lashes.  
("Jimmy," she said under her breath. "So glad that you're back and all's right."  
He nodded at her, thinking her kind.  
"Thank you, my lady." he said quietly in return before moving on.)

 

"Did you hear what happened at Downton?" the dowager drawled.  
And Kent had to bite the inside of his cheek to keep from reacting.  
The woman always was especially waspish toward the American who'd married into the Crawley household.  
One of those 'cash drawer princesses' she'd call Lady Grantham--at least behind her back when sitting with the others at Willburn.  
( Even Sally Anstruther was preferable to such as that.)

On the dinner proceeded as always. Rules and rhythm always perfectly maintained.

\---

Jimmy knew that if you didn't follow the rules, punishment would be swift and ruthless even from those who loved you most.  
He'd learned that all the way back at age twelve, when Ran came home to visit after a long lonely time away  
and the two of them were simply palling about. 

Randall Duncan enjoyed the clatter of his own tongue while saying very little at all, and he was practicing his usual gift of gab with Jimmy.  
"How can anyone say so much and yet say so little?" the smaller boy had said that night, grinning into the flames.

 

Ran'd predictably bristled. "What?" he started, puffing his chest out slightly at the thought of what seemed an insult.  
"Very sure on the outside. A very great show of things, but what is it you're really thinking?" Jimmy asked him, turning and pinning him with his eyes.  
And Randall looked back at him, rather stunned.

"I'm not thinking anything at all," the older boy had blustered.  
("Pity," Jimmy murmured under his breath, grinning, prodding the other lad on.)  
"Best get back to the big house."  
Ran's abrupt move to leave stopped whatever quip his friend had next coming.

"Do you absolutely have to? Been awfully quiet without your chattering," Jimmy said, making it sound like a jest again, though his eyes went dark and serious. 

 

He HAD missed the other boy greatly, wondered what he was doing each night, though he kept his wondering away from his parents.  
For Jimmy was skilled at showing the world only what it wanted to see, and he somehow knew what he was feeling  
no longer qualified.

 

"Do you really need to go back right this moment, Ran?"  
His voice had a note of frustration and neediness to it, that even Jimmy himself could hear.  
And he stepped closer, only twelve years to the other boy's thirteen.  
Looked up, watching in wonder as the fire danced over the planes of his high cheekbones and pale skin..  
Taking hold of Randalls's sleeve and stepping closer...  
only to jump back as his father came staggering in from the pub, shattering whatever thought Jimmy might have had.

 

"What's this?" his father roared; the first time Jimmy'd ever heard the man use such a tone.  
His father cuffed Randall soundly on the side of the head, and sending him running through the still open door, back down the lane.  
And then Samuel Kent went truly on a tear.

"Never," his father had screamed at him, grabbing out, lashing at him, hitting for the First Time Ever.  
"Never do you do something like that," he'd yelled,  
yet having caught them before they'd done anything at all.  
"But, da, we didn't. We weren't," Jimmy'd tried to explain it away, snot running down his face as he cowered away as much from shock as pain.

 

His father so angry; it was almost unfathomable.  
The usual comforting smells of pipe tobacco and whiskey. The husky depth of his voice, so well known.  
But the face--not his jocular smile now, no twinkle in those blue eyes gone so cold.  
"Never speak of it. Never THINK on it," he'd shouted.  
"Sorry, da," Jimmy managed to get out. (Keeping the doorframe between his body and his father's for the boy was a bit of a coward and didn't ever want to be struck if he could help.)  
"I promise I won't ever again."  
(And yet, he still wondered. What had I really, truly done?)

 

"If you ever do, next time I'll KILL you," the drunken Samuel Kent had said, losing his energy and flopping down on a chair, looking at his son with bleary, sad eyes.  
And though he knew his father had always loved him, Jimmy also knew that the old man meant it, even if he'd never say such a thing if sober and in front of his mum.  
That night, Jimmy'd fallen to sleep crying, wondering why he had to be so such a disappointment and promising that from that day forward, no one would ever again know it to be the truth.

For Jimmy never again wanted to break the rules and watch things fall apart.

\---

"Jimmy," Mr. Simms said quietly as they were clearing things up downstairs.  
"I need to speak to you."

The young footman went in, nervous.  
Even at Seventeen and viewed as grown, losing someone dear was no small matter.  
It might be expected he go on, one foot in front of the other, but still he could acknowledge feeling a small quiver inside.

"Sit down," Simms said, frowning slightly but in a Not Unkind tone of voice.  
"I know that you were friends with our young Randall."  
The old man paused a moment, breathing deeply in and out through his nose, as though gathering himself. (He'd heard things from Clegg about the second footman, things that he dearly hoped were not the truth. The lad had been in the house for years now; hard to believe they'd been blind to such as That.)  
"It must be a difficult time."

 

"Yes, Mr. Simms," Jimmy said simply.  
"I've got his things, you know. There's no one else to send them to, and you're really the closest thing to family he had."  
The old man had seen Jimmy and his mother at the funeral, had felt it right to go himself, too, though there were questions around where and how the dead boy's body had been found which the butler himself thought best to hide.  
"You might want them?"

"I can't," Jimmy'd half risen from his seat then, until the man waved him down. 

"We can put them away for you if you change your mind. I just wanted to make the offer, so that you'd know they were there."  
The butler swallowed again. 

 

"You're good at your job, Jimmy. We've enjoyed having you here, and, of course, this makes you taking on the job of second footman."  
Sensing another denial, Simms hurried on. "It does no matter how it happens, so that's that. I'll have your duties outlined more fully tomorrow.  
Tonight, however, you may go up early. I'll have one of the hall boys bring you your supper on a tray?"

And though it was a very small thing, Simms tried to convey with it some sort of support for the footman sitting in front of him  
who currently looked so very young and alone.


	3. Chapter 3

Willburn House was not the same without Randall there, of course,  
though in the weeks afterwards Jimmy tried to smile and be polite, tried to maintain the usual rhythm and style.

The kitchen maids, sensing his sadness at the loss of his friend, slipped him bits and pieces of treats until the cook had called him a 'cheeky beggar' and run him off.  
Not that she was unkind, however. 

Everyone understood the simple truth of DEATH, especially if they didn't cloud the simplicity by looking underneath it all and pondering the complexity hidden behind the word.  
The complexity of 'death,' the complicated definition of 'friend.'

 

Jimmy went on, trying not to think about how things had ended.  
You can only go forward, never back, the young man knew.  
And setting himself the task of climbing the staff ladder, he practiced his service with even more style and flourish, hoping to impress the upstairs folk and  
keep the downstairs folk at bay. 

 

For as in any big house of the time, the downstairs staff sometimes were downright unkind.  
The first footman, Clegg, especially set Jimmy's teeth on edge with his constant jibes and petty cruelties,  
especially with his smirking comments about Ran after the funeral....leading Jimmy to suspect the man knew more than he was willing to officially tell.

\---

"Woolgathering, James?" Clegg had sneered as he grabbed the meat and waited for his younger counterpart to get the sauce.  
It was ridiculous for mere boys to be full footmen, Henry Clegg believed, but the war had caused staff deficiencies. At least it was preferable to a maid....though barely so.  
"No, I'm quite ready," Jimmy said, grabbing the sauce boat from the assistant cook, who dimpled at him and gave a bit of a wink.  
"I'm always Quite ready, I am."

 

They went pounding up the flight of stairs to the service door to the dining room, pausing only a moment to catch their breath before gliding through.  
Unlike some houses, Willburn had no preparation room inside the baize door, and the footmen went at top speed on the stairs between each item, up and down, to keep a steady and decorous flow.

"Thank you, Jimmy," Lady Anstruther smiled up at him as she took a small portion.  
It was odd to think of such a young woman as that married to such a older man, though both were quite senior to himself.

Jimmy nodded and moved on almost (but no longer absolutely) innocent of what might be her design.

\---

"Mr. Simms, Jimmy quite spoiled the flow of luncheon today by lagging behind with his service," Clegg complained later when the staff sat down to their food.  
Jimmy rolled his eyes, but kept on eating--making the house maids across from him laugh and elbow each one to the other.  
"He's not only disrespectful. He's lacking professionally," Clegg said with such a sour look that even Jimmy couldn't doubt that the man was intending him eventual harm. 

"I'm doing quite well, I thought. Neither Lord or Lady Anstruther seemed to mind."  
(To which Clegg snorted.)

 

"Enough of that, Henry," Mr. Simms said, smoothing things over.  
On one hand, the butler worried that the younger wife of his lordship seemed to have too much familiarity with the servants.  
On the other, he was glad to see that Jimmy Kent seemed to garner some of that attention, as well as the attention of the maids and the kitchen girls. 

Clegg had never let it drop about something 'wrong' with Randall Duncan, and at least they'd have no rumors of that kind with this lad...or so Simms hoped...  
now that the 'gloves were off.' 

\---

"Are you supposed to scare me, Henry?"  
Jimmy Kent was actually Quite frightened, backed up against the corridor wall as he was by the older and larger man.  
But since he lacked the physical ability to fight his way out, Jimmy needed to go for the Con.  
"I'd reckon if I go down with a blackened eye, they'd at least ask."

 

"And you think they'd care?" Simms smirked.  
"Or you think I couldn't hurt you more than a black eye?"

"I think you're a bully, Henry. And bullies always should watch their backs, since they make enemies."  
Jimmy was thankful then for the approaching sound of the young hall boys, forcing Clegg to unhand him and move off.

\---

Months of this went on before Jimmy finally had to Give.

"You think this Clegg did something to Randall? Truly?"  
Darlene sat there, swinging her legs back and forth from the bridge.  
They'd gnawed their pile of windfall apples into a pile of cores while talking it out. 

Jimmy didn't know who else to tell (part of) it to, so on his half day he was here instead of with his mother as he ought to have done.

 

For he couldn't burden his mother, sick as she was with some sort of Fever starting.  
And his employers were out of the question, mainly for lack of proof, but also because they had their own worsening situation. 

 

"Why would he've done something like that?"  
She tossed the last of the apple into the river, watching it float a way downstream bobbing it's way past the rocks until it was around the bend.

"Didn't like him. Doesn't much like me, either, truth be told."  
Jimmy lobbed his overhand, missing the tree he was aiming at but still making a satisfactory splash. 

 

Darlene huffed slightly, rolling her eyes. Jimmy & Ran could be quite infuriating, even for boys.  
Still,  
"Ran got attacked by robbers, though. Surely a footman couldn't have done that and got back to Willburn without someone clued in."  
She looked at him, seriously considering things. 

She hedged then, "Perhaps he could've convinced someone else from the village. But who? And why?  
Even drunks need a reason to beat someone and String him up, and everyone knew Randall was always flat bust when it came to cash." 

 

Her voice had hitched with the details of how their Friend died, the image burned in her mind when she'd learned of it.  
(Ah, thought Jimmy, regretting she knew even that much.)

Yet she didn't suspect the 'why.'  
Jimmy thought he knew the Reason behind it, but couldn't share with the innocent girl  
the sort of rumor might cause normally sane men to kill another.  
(What had caused his own father to threaten to kill Him, after all.)

 

Jimmy didn't know whom Clegg had said it to, but he knew what he'd said,  
because the man had begun to make similarly suggestive comments  
around the house about Jimmy himself since Ran was gone.  
It was enough to frighten him, even worry about his own life and safety.

 

But he couldn't talk about that particular part of the story, not even with someone he'd grown up with.  
Not with Darlene.  
He'd promised his father he'd never mention such a thing aloud  
and seeing the danger of it now  
he was thankful he never had done.

 

"I need to get away from there," Jimmy said.  
"Lord and Lady Anstruther are going to France, for him to take the waters. The tumor he's got's got him so distended that it's not much use, but they're going to try."

"She'll need you though, her ladyship," Darlene said, knowing that Jimmy'd been quite impressed with himself for the lady to rely on him so dear. "You know she'll beg."  
"That's a problem in a different direction," Jimmy said, sighing slightly. 

"But either way it makes no difference. I like the woman, and it's always good to keep a friend High Up like that. But I can't live much longer knowing I'm about to be thrown on the griddle.  
If Ran'd been smart he'd've been out of there, too."

 

"If Ran'd not had you there in the house, making him stay," the girl said softly.  
"What?" Jimmy asked, startled, the first he'd thought of it.  
"It's all fine for you to run, James Kent. You've no one to watch out for than yourself. But you know as well as I do that Ran Duncan couldn't've quit and left you there by yourself.  
"He wasn't the type to leave his friends in a battle, while he cut and ran."

 

(I killed him, then, thought Jimmy. I planted the evil thought in him when we were children, then I forced him to stay in a place where acting on it could do him in.)  
"I would've run with him," he whispered.  
But would he have done?  
(Jimmy had to acknowledge his own lack of bravery....even if he'd never dare acknowledge anything else aloud.)

 

"Well, let's hope her ladyship gives you a good reference. I'm not sure she's as kindhearted as you think," Darlene said, having heard rumors of her own about the village, though of the male-female kind.  
"But you're right to make an end of it. I'll go with you to talk to your mother before you go back to Willburn if you like."

And taking his arm, she walked him down the darkened path to his future, wishing she could do more to comfort him  
knowing she could not.

 

Meanwhile Jimmy once again promised himself that he'd bury the problem to never have it resurrected again.  
He'd never, ever be even so much as friends with a man who gave any hint of being 'like that'  
(like ME, a tiny of his mind interjected before the thought was squelched).  
Jimmy now knew  
it could be deadly to even try.


End file.
